Aaaaaaaaaaaannd, we're back!

So for those of you who had at any point been keeping up with my blog, you may have noticed a three month span or so in which I stopped caring for you, the reader. For this I apologize; allow me to explain. Shortly after the wildbirds concert I realized that I could not simultaneously (A) go to concerts every week (B) make decent grades and (C) have a social life. That's why I've decided to change this from a

MUSIC BLOG

to a regular old

WHATEVER-I-FEEL-LIKE-WRITING BLOG

If you were just reading this for the music reviews, you may want to unsubscribe. Haha who am I fooling. I'm sure the Matt Pagan element was the only reason you the reader read these little segments anyways, amirite?

I figured the concert reviewing was probably dead after I went to a momentous Regina Spektor show that I just didn't bother telling you about, reader. (Again, my apologies.) What's that? You hadn't heard about it? She overdosed and had to go to the hospital. Her clever technical manager told everyone it was a "stomach virus," that caused her to collapse onstage during the mic check, but we all knew. Everyone left the show really dissappointed and a little worried.



Mirrors

I kind of shocked myself today when I found that I had spent a considerable time in front of my bedroom mirror. I'm not really a vain person (at least I don't consider myself one), so I had to wonder if it's my own image I keep looking at or of it's the mirror itself. Mirrors have always had a surreal sort of attraction for me ever since I read Through the Looking Glass as a little kid--an attraction that was heightened the first time I saw the Matrix.

When I was a kid I would always try to get through to the other side of the mirror, but there was always someone who looked just like me blocking the portal. "He clearly wants to get to my world, and I to his," I reasoned. "If only we could coordinate our movements, we would both be happy." Of course we never got this figured out, mostly because every time I opened my mouth to give him directions, he would think of something to say at the exact same time, and both our sentences would get lost in interruption.

Perhaps I keep expecting to find some great truth through self-reflection. Occasionally I do, but it's usually more along the lines of "My hair is frizzy today" or "I have bags under my eyes." Maybe I'm just comforted by the knowledge mirrors give me that I actually exist in the physical world. I have a body like everyone else and I'm not just a bunch of mental energy watching some movie starring all my friends and acquaintences. You'd be surprised how easily I forget that sometimes.